


Weasleys are our Kings

by JosefAik



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Good Fred Weasley & George Weasley, Hogwarts, Other, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Pre-Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, The Marauder's Map
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:01:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28300557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JosefAik/pseuds/JosefAik
Summary: Before Harry Potter, the flame-headed Weasley twins were the talk of Hogwarts. This picks up on Fred and George Weasley during their second year, doing what they do best.
Relationships: Fred Weasley & George Weasley, Fred Weasley & Marcus Flint, Lee Jordan & Fred Weasley, Lee Jordan & Fred Weasley & George Weasley
Kudos: 9





	Weasleys are our Kings

Fred Weasley slipped unseen amongst a gaggle of third year Ravenclaws. His strongest distinguishing feature, his flame-red hair, was disguised as a mousy brown, thanks to the very helpful wand of an amused seventh year. His shield of Ravenclaw students must have been on their way down from their common room to the Great Hall, as they traipsed down the steps, eagerly discussing the day’s lessons, what food they were hoping would be served, and grading the new first years on an intelligence scale. Just typical Ravenclaw stuff. Fred suspected that they knew he didn’t belong, but they didn’t rat him out, or tell him to bugger off. They probably wanted to know what he was planning to do next. 

Fred was rangy for his age, twelve, and didn’t look out of the ordinary amongst third years. A keen observer might have seen the red trim to his robes, but who would be looking for that. They made their final approach down the grand staircase, and his target came into view. 

The group of Slytherins milled around beside the Architect statue. There were fifth years there, he noticed, and he quickly gulped down any reservations he had as he made final preparations. He slipped his wand out, holding it tightly, his palm sweaty, but his grip firm. No second thoughts, and stick to the plan. 

“Diffindo.” He whispered the words, flicking his wand gently, as they had been shown in Charms, and the pink light flew from his wand. It hit Warrington spot on, and the hulking Slytherin’s trousers dropped to the floor, the waistline cut away from them. It took his gathered classmates a few moments to realise what had happened, and by that point Fred was already on his way, his pounding footsteps ringing through the halls, laughter following him, as he clambered back up the stairs. He let out his own cheer of triumph, which echoed back around the high vaulted room, and was soon joined by the cacophony of pounding feet behind him. 

“Fred Weasley! George Weasley! Weasley! Get back here!” McGonagall’s futile calls for him to return told him that the charm on his hair had faded away whenever he had cast the cutting charm. He threw off his robes, allowing it to fall behind him, revealing his bright red jumper, emblazoned with a prominent gold F. It wouldn’t do for people not to know who the hero of Hogwarts was today, after all. The Slytherins called out threats and orders, but he ignored them, and kept his pace. 

His long legs served him well today, helping him up to the third-floor corridor pretty quickly. The stairs there had changed, so instead he darted down the Transfiguration corridor, past a statue of Erling the Great, and then right. Left. Left. Right. Left. Then down the stairs that presented themselves in front of him, all whilst the Slytherins made chase. “That the best you can do, Flint?” He called back to them, taunting, and had to duck slightly, as several bolts of red light flew past his head. 

Fred came to the bottom of the stairs, and was presented with a choice of left, towards charms, or right, towards the Dungeons. That was Slytherin home territory. Instead, he chose neither, sneaking himself behind a statue of Gregory the Smarmy, who had been fat enough in life to conceal him, and waited for the Slytherins to run past. “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.” He placed the tip of his wand to the parchment he had placed in his back-pocket. Suddenly it sprung to life., revealing all the halls and passages of Hogwarts, intricately etched in ink, with names wandering the parchment in a constant torrent. Most of them sat in the Great Hall. Warrington was still in the entrance hall, there. His eyes looked for McGonagall, and then for Snape and Filch. The middle was pacing in his study, clearly yet to know about the prank, whilst Filch was chasing Peeves near the Astronomy Tower. He couldn’t see McGonagall, but that meant she couldn’t be close. 

There were, according to the map, eight Slytherins pursuing him. Pucey, Montague, Derrick, Bole, and Bletchley. Each of them was built like a mountain. Strong, but slow. No wonder they hadn’t caught up to him yet. Rosier, Avery, and Flint... They might be more of a problem. 

“Where did he go?” He heard the unmistakable dulcet tones of Marcus Flint then, a cross between a growl and a rasp. Fred smiled at the sound of pure anger in his voice. Clearly the plan had worked perfectly thus far. “Come on Lee...” He muttered, waiting for the next part to come into place. The unmistakable honking of the Decoy Detonators (a little experiment they were trialling out) echoed up from the dungeons, and was not lost on Flint. “That way!” He bellowed the order, and the Slytherin crew rushed off after the sound. Fred left it six, seven, eight seconds before he slipped out of his hiding place. 

“Locomotor Mortis!” The purple light shot from his wand, and hit the unmistakable barrel back of Bole square on. He staggered for a few steps, before falling flat on his face. “Wrong way!” He called back to them, as he darted down towards Charms. 

He bundled into a few second year Hufflepuffs as he turned around the next corner, but they cheered him on as they saw the Slytherins chasing him. He came up back into the Entrance Hall, a crowd gathered around the flushed red Warrington. He was holding up his trousers, whilst simultaneously explaining what had happened to two Slytherin prefects, and his eyes widened as soon as he saw the fiery hair, freckled face, and darting blue eyes. “Petrificus Totalus,” Fred called, and the light flashed from his wand tip. Warrington’s arms snapped to his side, and he collapsed backwards, his trousers having just enough time to drop back to the floor, to much amusement from those gathered, besides the prefects. He checked the map quickly, before darting through the double doors and out into the courtyard. 

The autumn air hit him quickly, and refreshed him instantly. He hadn’t noticed the heat or stuffiness of running through the castle. He knew the way by heart. Left. Right. Duck down that passageway. Up those stairs. Past the steps down to the boathouse and along the covered walkway. He could hear the shouts of the Slytherins again, and he let out a hoot of excitement. He just had to hope that George was waiting for him like they planned. “Shame your legs are as slow as your brain, Flint!” He called back, receiving plenty of expletives in return. The path he took cut across the flying field, and back into the school building. He took it as fast as his rangy legs could carry him, knowing that the Slytherins were gaining on him now. He was smarter than them, though. That was his advantage. 

The way back to the grand staircase was found easily. He darted down one, a flash of fiery redness, just as it decided to move, leaving the Slytherins stranded behind him, unable to follow. He turned to them, flashing his trademark smile. “Better luck next time, Flint. You’ll need it.” Flint scowled, and a guttural growl escaped him, like a wolf. “This isn’t over, Weasley.” Fred laughed, turned, and skipped down the stairs, flashing a look of triumph of the Slytherins, joined by the prefects, who were slinking away. Lee Jordan, the Weasley’s erstwhile pranking companion, waited for him at the bottom of the stairs. 

“Bole is hopping mad, Fred. He tried to chase me, but he just kept falling over! George is waiting for you, by the way.” Lee had collected Fred’s robes from before, so he slipped them back on. There were plenty of advantages to having an identical twin, and creating an alibi was definitely one of them. 

“See you in the common room later then, Lee!” He bounced off then, hurtling head on out of the entrance hall. There was still plenty of commotion, and cheers abounded as he ran past, having just enough time to see Warrington, still out of action. He really should have worn cleaner pants that morning, Fred thought, as he barrelled through the doorway. A quick check of the map told him that the Slytherins had doubled back, and were making their way towards him. This time, he chose to go right, making a path around the circumference of the castle’s walls. Someone must have told Flint which way he had gone, because he, Pucey, and Montague were heading that way, too. Didn’t matter. Fred was home and dry. 

The Herbology greenhouses were his target, and he reached them comfortably, passing two, before slipping into the gap on the right. Potted plants provided him cover, and he watched the Slytherins race past him, pounding their feet against the ground. Instead of looking to the map, he reached his hand back, and felt the smooth stick drop into his hand, hearing the bristles flick against the ground. His eyes flitted up, and he spotted the smiling face of his comrade-in-arms, the flaming red hair poking out from the top of the greenhouse, where George had made his seat. Together they kicked off, soaring into the skies, hovering just above Herbology. “Guess you can’t catch me now, Flint! Tell Warrington that his mum needs to try harder washing his pants, alright?” A few flashes of light shot up towards them, but they rolled away pretty easily. Slytherins were never good at aiming. 

They flashed through the brisk wind, circling the highest towers of the school, and then cutting across the waters of the lake, feeling the water skim against their shoes. Fred outstretched his hand, and cupped some water, throwing it against his skin. He needed that. Running from the Slytherins had been a lot of effort, and it helped to calm his flushed features. They then flew up to Gryffindor Tower, holding their brooms in the air outside the window, and basking in the cheers and whoops they received from their fellows, a chorus of Weasley is our King led by the cartoonishly over-the-top Lee Jordan, who mimed the baton with his wand, accidentally setting off a series of multi-coloured sparks at one point. 

Eventually they set their brooms down, on top of the Astronomy Tower, and allowed each other to lose themselves in laughter. “You should have seen the look on Warrington’s face when you first hit him!” George managed to speak through the torrents of enjoyment, wheezing the words out. “You missed Bole falling flat on his fat face. That serves him for smacking Alicia in the face with his bat last game.” They stopped laughing for a few seconds, then started again when their eyes locked. Consequences would come. They always did, but, for now, they were just two boys laughing, their practical joke having worked perfectly. 

Take that, Slytherin.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is actually written as a christmas present to someone, because I am that lame and cheap. They have been a fantastic friend to someone who means a lot to me, and I wanted to write this as sort of a thank you for that (also, it lets me write some Harry Potter stuff, so that is a bonus for me). It's christmas for me at the time of posting, but not for them, so... Merry christmas whenever you read this, Tyyler. If you even read it at all! Wouldn't be the first time!
> 
> Also merry christmas to all you folks out there, even if it isn't christmas when you read it. That's always the problem with posting things for christmas. It will still get views afterwards. I can't help that, though. 
> 
> Good day to all, both those reading now and those in the future.   
> JosefAik


End file.
